the rain and the poetry

I was delayed today, by the rain and the poetry. And because I misread the timetable.

When I got to my class (proper writing class, with homework) we had to write on from the phrase ‘the rain began at midnight’. I remembered reading poems about rain and water. I wished I remembered the Simon Armitage ones. I wrote a drivel type stream of consciousness (poems-soft-what we wear-who we are-on the street where you live-singing in the rain-marshmallow of comfort-soggy-mushrooms-nourishment-defines and confines) while all around me people wrote real things, with themes, ideas and stories. They could read them out; mine was hardly legible.